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Full fathom five
(The Tempest I.ii.396)
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EDWARD STAGGERED UP the stairs to his chambers. Five days. Five days before they set sail, and the good Lord above only knew how many days before they might return. He had never contemplated undertaking such a trip again, and the thought alternately paralyzed him and sent him into frenzies of activity. There were so many details to be planned, so many tasks to be completed, and yet... and yet the enormity and immediacy of the situation was staggering. After several fretful hours with his manservant, who listened calmly to his master’s fitful outpourings and who then set about doing things his own way, Edward set off into the streets once again.
He knocked at the Dyson’s door not long before the dinner hour. Mrs. Dyson was not expecting company and looked astonished to see her son’s close friend at the threshold. Frederick himself bounded down the stairs a moment after his mother entered the foyer, saying “Gwen, I didn’t.... Edward!”
“Frederick. I have news.”
“What is it, man? You look like you have been through the wars. Have you eaten? No, of course not. Will you dine with us?”
“No, thank you. I will not keep you long, but I must talk with you. Mrs. Dyson, will you please excuse us?”
“Yes, of course, Edward.” Her kind face was all concern. She was a virago in her social dealings, but her nature was good and kind, and she wished only well for her son’s friends.
Frederick led Edward back into the billiards room and sat him down. “Talk. This looks serious.”
“It is. Matthew and Lynnie have disappeared and I am off for Nova Scotia on Monday to rescue them.”
“What?” Fred’s eye grew large. “Gone off to Nova Scotia? Whatever possessed them to do that?”
“Gwen has told you of Lynnie’s family troubles.” Edward had no need to phrase this as anything other than a statement. Frederick nodded. “We believe the uncle is ready to make his next move and her brother may be in some danger. They are off to rescue him, and I am off to rescue them.”
“Edward! Are you living in a novel? Something my silly sisters would read instead of their histories?”
“If only that were so, Fred.” He pinched his forehead just between his brows. “I fear I shall not return in time for your wedding. I truly regret that.”
“We can change....”
“No. Do not delay your wedding for a single moment. I would have you and Gwen settled and happy. That will give me more joy than seeing you at the church.”
“But will you not be in danger yourself? The crossing itself is a peril to be survived.”
Edward walked to the table and began abstractly rolling balls against the sides, watching them reflect off the walls to roll across the green surface. “I have made the crossing twice and survived. It is not a great pleasure, but it is not so fraught with peril. It is not the journey I fear as much as I what I might find on the other side. And, recall, I do not travel alone.”
“Edward? Who will go with you?”
“Sherrington, my father’s friend. The ship belongs to a powerful man of his acquaintance.”
“Sherrington, the baronet’s brother. Well, you do travel in style. I shall not worry for your comfort, at least. And once you arrive?”
Edward curled his lips into a mockery of a smile. “Then, we see what needs doing, and do it. Sherrington is no stranger to intrigue. I will trust him. I just want Matthew to be safe. And Lynnie. Oh, Frederick, when I think of her, alone on that ship, with weeks to go before she sees land, and no friends but a scrawny youth, my heart stops in my chest.”
“She will be alright. She is more resourceful than we can imagine. Recall what she has already contrived to do—escape her uncle, make her way to London, and live in such complete secrecy that not even you know where to find her. I have no qualms as to her ability to overcome anything. But you will find her. And you will bring her home, and you will be married, and if you cannot celebrate at my wedding, I shall celebrate at yours.”
Edward gave his friend a clap on the shoulder. “Thank you, Fred. You are the best of friends. If I do not have the fortune to see you again before I leave, offer my very best wishes to your bride.”
“Be well, Edward. Travel in peace.”
And once again, Edward was back out on the cold streets of London.
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ALL TOO QUICKLY THE day of departure arrived, and by dawn the following Monday, Edward and Jeremiah Sherrington were standing on the deck of The Arabella waiting for it to sail. Sherrington had procured two fine cabins, or at least as fine as could be found on an ocean vessel, for the duration of the journey. The rooms were small but very comfortably furnished, and Edward, who had completed the journey in much less luxurious circumstances, realized the advantages of traveling as a guest of one of the owners of the vessel.
The cabins, which were next to each other, were high on the ship, and each boasted a large window, two narrow beds, a desk, a shelf for books, and a small closet and space for trunks and personal effects. Each room also had, attached, a smaller sleeping alcove for the master’s valet or manservant. The wood which made up the walls and furnishings alike was richly polished and glossy, and the curtains and beddings were of fine materials. Edward lay down and was pleasantly surprised at the comfort of the bed.
“Will it do?” Sherrington poked his head in through the narrow door to the room.
“Yes, most certainly.” Edward smiled, trying to disguise his anxiety. “It is quite an improvement over the hardboard I slept on for all those weeks on my previous journeys. Where do we dine? Alone? Or with the officers?”
“We are Darcy’s guests. We dine with the captain. I hope his food appeals to your tastes.”
At that moment, the ship rocked slightly and a light shudder ran through it as the crew pushed off from the docks. “And so the journey begins,” Sherrington clapped a comforting hand on Edward’s shoulder and offered him an understanding smile. “Be easy, son. We will accomplish our task with little trouble. I have... resources.” He raised one eyebrow and gave a smirk, and then said, “I am up to the main deck. I do enjoy watching as we set sail. Come and join me.”
“And so I shall,” Edward agreed, satisfied that for the next several weeks at least, whilst at sea, worrying would be of no use. Until they arrived in Halifax, there was nothing he could do. There would be plenty of time to worry once they arrived.
The trip itself was, as expected, a combination of boredom when the seas were calm, and sheer terror when storms and rough water met them on their way. Edward was a seasoned traveller and tried to calm himself by observing that the crew dealt with the turbulent waters with no undue concern or alarm. He did not get ill from the rocking of the ship, but his thoughts invariably strayed to Matthew and Lynnie, who would surely be experiencing the same rocking, and who might be ill from the motion. It was with great difficulty that he controlled his deep concern for his friends.
Sherrington proved to be a first-rate travelling companion. He astounded Edward with his remarkable ability to converse with complete ease with all members of the crew, from the lowest tar to the captain himself, meeting each man at his own level. Within a few days he had learned the names of every man on board and greeted each with unfeigned pleasure. In return, each member of the crew smiled when Sherrington strode into view, and the captain soon adopted Sherrington and his young companion as fast friends, inviting them to his own cabin for whisky or cigars after meals.
Whilst Edward was admiring his friend’s ability to navigate the myriad currents of the ship’s society, he failed to notice how he, himself, was regarded. Lynnie had been correct: Edward Gardiner was no master of deceit and disguise. But his open, artless manner quickly garnered the respect and trust of all who came to know him, and his sincere and pleasant disposition made him a welcome companion for a quick chat or a long evening’s discussion over port or a chessboard. He was honest and likable, with no hint of dissembling, and after only a short time in his company, any of the crew would have moved mountains to make his journey more pleasant.
It was a few days before making landfall that he began to realize how much the crew genuinely liked him. He was stretching his legs, taking a turn around the deck before breakfast, when he came across Sherrington talking casually with the first mate. The seas were calm despite a brisk wind pushing them quickly to their destination, and the officer was at leisure to spend a few minutes with his passenger.
“Normally me men would take great exception to havin' to do two extra port calls,” the first mate was explaining. “They want to be paid and then get home to their families afore the next ladin' and sailin'. But I’ve yet to hear one gripe or grumble this time around. They’ve all, from stem to stern, takin' a great likin' to you and Master Gardiner, and are happy to be able to carry you home again once we’re full o' timber.” Then he added, “nothin' like what we expected from a couple of toffs!”
Edward was prepared to be offended at this comment, and was taken aback by Sherrington’s round peal of laughter. That, he realized, was why men took to him so well. He was not above laughing at himself and his social peers. It made him a good government agent, and this was why Darcy and even the king himself put so much faith in his abilities.
The strong wind had moved the ship more quickly across the Atlantic than expected, and they arrived in Halifax four and a half weeks after departing London, only days after Matthew’s ship was thought to have arrived. As they sailed into the harbour, Edward was once again awed by the natural resource the British had been so fortunate as to claim. The narrow opening was well protected on all sides by a series of batteries and fortifications, but once passed that critical point, the waters opened up again into a massive natural harbour, large enough to house most of the Royal Navy.
The town of Halifax itself was small and stretched out along the shore of the harbour beneath a large hill, crowned with an impressive military citadel. Small though it was, the town was clearly bustling. The recent revolt by the former American colonies, along with the threat posed by the Corsican upstart Bonaparte, had led Britain to increase its formidable navy, and much of that work was being done here in the harbour. A huge naval dockyards had been established, and timber from both Nova Scotia and the neighbouring colony of New Brunswick supplied the wood for much of the Empire’s fleet.
Despite pretensions by the upstart nation to the south, Edward and Sherrington both knew that between Nassau in the Bahama Islands, Halifax, and Bermuda, Britain ruled the Atlantic.
Edward could see evidence of the increased activity in the town itself. An impressive new building was being constructed, which the men would later learn was to be the new Government House, and other instances of new construction could be found in every direction. The place had, indeed, changed quite remarkably even in the few short years since Edward’s last sight of it.
As they drew closer to the dock where they would set in, Edward peered around for sight of another ship, the one that might have carried his friends. There was much activity in the port, and vessels of all sorts sat tethered to all available piers, as well as anchored just off the shore, where they could wait until ready to be laded for their return voyages.
“Looking for The Lucinda?” Sherrington asked as he came across his younger companion, staring out into the forest of masts. “It could not have arrived much before. We crossed in exceptional time.”
“Aye. But I know I will not find it thus. Still, I cannot but hope to catch a glimpse of a face I know. I keep hoping, against all reason, to find my Lynnie.”
“Have you many acquaintances here still?” Sherrington asked. “I know you were in Windsor, but perhaps you had friends in Halifax as well.”
Edward turned to him with a half-smile. “That I might. I met many good people during my time here. Many were loyalists from the American colonies who would not abandon their king. They were the very group who established my alma mater when they fled the revolutionaries. I shall ask after some old friends immediately upon disembarking.”
“And I shall inquire after an inn where we may stay, and begin searching out young Grant.”
“Mr. Sherrington?”
“Yes, son?”
“Thank you.”
Before long they felt the faint shudder that informed them that the ship had docked, and began the process of bidding their farewells to the crew, pleased in the thought that these same men would soon carry them back home, hopefully with the Grants and Matthew amongst their company. Trunks were unloaded, and many hands were shaken, as were friendly claps given across men’s shoulders.
“May the winds be with you,” Sherrington called to the captain, “and may we soon see once more you on these shores.”
They set off to find lodgings. Edward recalled a small but comfortable inn not far from the docks, and he led Sherrington thither to examine the rooms. They were deemed more than acceptable and were consequently engaged for an indeterminate stay. Whilst Edward agreed to oversee the transport and establishment of their trunks in the rooms, Sherrington left in the direction of the government buildings to begin his inquiries. His task having been accomplished sooner than expected, and Sherrington still not returned, Edward elected to stroll for a while along the streets of the town to regain his bearings and hopefully inquire after old acquaintances.
Letting the spire of St. Paul’s Church lead him, he followed Barrington Street, walking past buildings old and new. Most were built of timber, so plentiful in these parts and the backbone of the Royal Navy, but more and more he could see stone being used as well. Stone, of course, did not burn; fires were always a hazard. The new Government House looked to be a stone structure, although construction was just underway. When completed, it would be equal to anything in the Empire.
The streets were crowded with people, men, women and children, and military men of all descriptions. The Citadel, high on the hill just above the great church which guided his path, protected the town and the dockyards below. There were army men, navy men, and uniforms he did not begin to recognize. Most of the voices he heard spoke English, but he was surprised at the other tongues that filtered through to his ears. French, some German, some languages he assumed to be the local Indian tongues, and Spanish. He was also surprised to see faces of different hues on the streets. Whilst slavery was still common in the West Indies, he knew that many freed black men made their way to the north where they might eke out their existences as free men. And so it seemed that some small number had arrived on these Nova Scotian shores. He had not missed the town, but he was not unhappy to be back.
Having reached his destination of the market square, he began asking after old friends, as well as asking if anybody had seen a youth matching Matthew’s description. He realized, with a jolt to his soul, that he could not describe Miss Grant. The reality struck him forcefully, and he leaned against a building for a moment to regain his equilibrium. He had written to her, spoken to her, held her, and kissed her quite passionately, but he not seen her face in the light.
Struggling for a moment, he managed to return to some semblance of control over his emotions, and stepped into a nearby public house for a much-needed ale. He sat on a low wooden bench at a long table, listening to the hubbub of chatter, whilst the barmaid, wearing a gown more suited to a brothel than a respectable inn, brought him a small flagon.
“A question, madam, if I may?” he asked politely.
“I am available after the pub closes, sir, but not until then,” came her businesslike response.
“No, madam, you mistake my meaning!” Edward realized her garb was intentional, and was embarrassed at his unintentional blunder. “I seek information, not... not your favours.”
The woman stood there, looking at him curiously. “Information, is that what it is called now in England?” She sat at his table with a cheeky glance at his fine clothing. “Ask away then. And come back after hours, so we may exchange more... information.”
“I, er, that is...” Edward wiped his forehead. “I merely wondered if you had knowledge of the ships that have come in recently. I am seeking friends who have just now travelled to these parts.”
“Aye, that I might. Travelers are good customers... for the pub.” She winked at him. He cleared his throat.
“The ship I seek is The Lucinda, arriving from London within the last several days. Would you know...?”
The barmaid made a great show of seeming to ponder this, shifting her body around so as to best display her assets. At last, she reached over and suggestively stroked Edward’s arm, whilst saying, “Aye, I believe it did arrive, just two days ago. If you find your friends, perhaps we can all celebrate together. And share... information. I am not averse to hosting a gathering.” She winked.
Edward swallowed and made a great effort to control his expression. In as calm a voice as he could muster, he thanked the woman for her assistance and paid for his ale, leaving some extra coins for her help.
He drank his ale perhaps more quickly than he ought, and stepped out again, somewhat unsteadily, into the sunlight. He did not recall such forwardness from his previous visits to the city. As a businessman, though, he recognized that not all economic development occurred above the boards, and that the influx of military men as well as the industries of building and maintaining the great fleets of ships would necessarily bring other less savory elements into the area. Where there are many single men, away from home, there will be women to entertain them, he knew.
And, looking down at his arm where the barmaid had stroked him so brazenly, he realized that he, as well as the town, had grown and changed. His clothing was, if not of the most elegant cut, quite fine. He was marked by his garb as a man of substantial means, a fair target for a woman using what resources she had to make her way in the world. Vowing to be more careful in his dealings, he set forth again into the streets, seeking familiar faces.